


Moondust

by Drapetomania



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 00:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapetomania/pseuds/Drapetomania
Summary: Prompt fill for:"Wanna see what I bought?"*pulls out fake carrot*





	Moondust

Moondust

"Wanna see what I bought?"

  
Stiles detached himself from the shadowed alley wall, hoodie turning crimson as the dim light from a street lamp a few feet down hit it. Crimson like blood, that would probably barely show if he were to be stabbed, which was exactly the kind of thing Derek had been trying to prevent. 

  
With such good intent - not something he could always say for himself - Derek kept walking, after the slightest hitch of his steps like Stiles might have possibly surprised him. 

  
"No," he said, stepping right past the caramel-eyed temptation, deliberately not paying attention to the carrot - why the fuck even, a goddamn carrot, what - in his hand. He almost relented, almost wanted to entertain the young male's absolute absurdity for the sole reason that Derek knew he wasn't crazy. If he hadn't known him any better though… but alas Derek was all too aware Stiles' mind worked in mysterious ways, speedily intricate and way too appealing to be healthy. 

  
Derek didn't do admiration and incomprehensible feelings.

  
Of course, Stiles didn't do the whole quitting thing either so that left them at kind of an impasse. 

  
Like a dog at heel, Stiles scampered after Derek, head tilted up and focus zeroed in on him. Derek was just waiting for him to trip and face-plant. He'd like to believe he'd have the integrity to stick to his personal principles and leave Stiles in the dust - and whatever else was ingrained in the disgusting sidewalk in this part of town.

  
"Derek, just look!" Stiles insisted, and Derek wouldn't have listened, would have kept right on marching, hands dutifully fisted in his jacket pockets. Except for the fact that Stiles reached out to dig his kitten-claw fingers into the midnight leather of his sleeve. Derek whirled around with a low growl, catching Stiles unprepared so that he almost crashed into Derek's chest.

  
"Oh, I-" he let out, soothing his flustered feathers as he inched back. "Sorry. I just-"

  
Shifting his weight to his right foot, the light from behind Derek illuminated Stiles' whole face beneath the hood, strands of the growing brown hair peeking out from beneath the rim. Lighter brown, speckling moles stood out against the pale skin like inverted stars beneath a blush of a galaxy and Derek was absolutely not going to let himself wonder how far they went down.

  
"I got this for us," Stiles continued, once again holding up the carrot. Derek had given up on telling Stiles that there was no 'us' between them. Nothing of the like at all. He'd let Stiles weasel his way into his life for a bit, they'd spent some time together but that was it. It surely didn't warrant Stiles tracking him down to show him an off-smelling carrot as a token of their nonexistent relationship.

  
Derek’s glare combined with a lifted right eyebrow seemed to serve as enough of a reaction, causing Stiles to huff and to jerk the carrot around in his ever present signature flail.

  
“It’s about what’s inside the carrot,” Stiles explained with the hint of a growing grin. 

  
Derek crossed his arms because Stiles was going to have to give him more than that after the way they’d parted last time if he wanted him to truly engage.

  
"Huh… look at who doesn't know everything for once," Stiles said smugly.

  
"Stiles…" and Derek threw his eyes skyward as if the universe could save him from this testing situation - as if it ever had before…

  
"Okay. Obviously you're stressed. So. What do you say we take this aaaand kick back like the good old time?" Stiles suggested, almost... bouncing a little on the spot.

If Derek tensed his upper body any harder, he would have probably busted a seam. As it was he just dug sharpened digits into his crossed arms to try and keep composure. Getting his anger running would mean Stiles got to him and that would not do.

"Stop pretending. There are no good old days. There as never a thing. Nothing, okay? Nothing. I told you to leave me alone."

And finally, Stiles' face began to fall - which Derek still felt through the emotionless haze like a fishhook in his gut, an intermittent sharp tugging. But he didn't give. Not even as he saw the hopelessness flicker across the speckled nose, sinking down toward the pavement, reminding him of the sickly pale, hollow-eyed, walking corpse that tottered into his lair one blisteringly early morning three months back. He'd sold him relief of whatever kind he'd desired back then, allowed to find a place to crash in the vast building as long as it wasn't long term.

Hell, he'd given into Stiles many times before. Smoking with him on the rooftop underneath the stars, letting him fall asleep on his couch, letting himself laugh with him, like they were the leads of some stupid, cliche, teeny romance drama.

He'd let Stiles fall in deeper into the dark life of the streets with him. And woke one night to the realization that he didn't want Stiles to get hurt. With Derek he would. And Derek would be damned if he wasn't going to try everything in his power to get Stiles to leave and explore his own horizons so he could find the greater heights he was deserving of.

He wasn't giving in this time.

"Are you really that cold-blooded?" Stiles asked, flicking his gaze up in a challenge, more serious that Derek had ever experienced him. Like the defiant up-tick with his chin, the words spoke like a truth rather than insecurity.

But Derek was. He was. He didn't care. Not one bit. Not a single precious ounce. His feelings were not to be negotiated with, not out for public use.

Derek didn't care. He didn't care to such an amount that...

He was rooted to the spot, mouth wired shut. Still like a statue, unauthorized to move or make a single sound - it was a feeling Derek knew all too well. Usually he'd jump and try to crack the armor through force but this time... This time his enemy was within, an inner cooler to stop his blood from boiling over and burning his insides all over again.

But also this time... He wanted.

So he swallowed the poison down with a shot of anti-freeze and felt his heart stutter back into action, kicking in all directions on it's way out.

"What you got in there?" He asked, voice rough like sandpaper, and flimsy like it too.

The fear fled like a deer before him as the gentle smile slowly returned to Stiles' face, hands unclenching and shoulders dropping.

"Only the very best," Stiles declared cheerfully, the implied 'for you' in his eyes hitting the bullseye in Derek's chest. He let himself soften under Stiles' touch on his arm, this time, breathing in with relief as he was embraced by his true addiction.  
  



End file.
